


One Day, I'm Gonna Kill You

by orphan_account



Series: Repo!Stuck [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Drug Use, Gen, Repostuck, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 00:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gamzee Makara, 23, is a self-proclaimed experienced Zydrate dealer. And an addict. A bad one. He's also a pretty shitty dealer as well, but he's gotta do something with his life.<br/>And then Dave Strider fucks it all up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> A request for Eddy, who roleplays Repo!Stuck with me. He asked for a story about Gamzee, and this is all I could think of. Why Gamzee and Dave screw with each other constantly.  
> A little background information about this Repo!Stuck take:  
> Gamzee is a dealer and an addict. He is so addicted that if he ever goes days without taking Zydrate after it wears off from the last time, he goes into violent rages and will kill people until he can get his hands on some drugs.  
> Dave is an experienced Graverobber who Gamzee often has to drag himself to when he doesn't have the means to get any Zydrate himself. Dave enjoys mocking and teasing Gamzee at every chance he can get, so most of the time even the mention of Dave will piss Gamzee off.
> 
> Originally meant to be a ficlet, it'll now be two or three short collections of the things Dave did to make Gamzee loathe him.

Gamzee was an 18-year-old orphan with wild hair and lip piercings when he first tried Zydrate of his own free will. It was fucking amazing. It was the greatest rush he'd ever felt in his life, and it never seemed to die down. Until it did, and it left him feeling hollow, senseless, _boring_. He couldn't stop, he just kept on going deeper. This continued until he was 21. That was when he started to run out of money, and he figured it was time to quit. He tried to go cold turkey.

He killed five people after a few nights without it, after a bunch of people tried to rough him up in an alley. When they cut his face, be went berserk. Bashed one guys brains into a wall, and cut up the rest with some broken glass.

He was afraid of himself after he realized he had done it. Everyone else started to fear him as well, becoming notorious for the three jagged scars that went across the middle of his face, courtesy of a broken glass bottle. He began to create a new image then.

He delved into the business of dealing, and he tried so, so hard to make it work while feeding his own addiction to keep from breaking down. The death toll slowly grew higher, growing only when he would sell his last tube and wouldn't make it to another Graverobber in time to stock up.

He was truly, truly horrible at his job. Even now, at 23 years old, he was still just barely making it by. He lived in a broken down shack in the outskirts, the furthest away from the inner city, from Sanitarium Square where all of the goons were hunting people like him down. He had only just moved here to get away from that attention, and the eyes of his ex-clientele. Most of them wanted him dead for killing their friends. Even he wasn't at liberty to explain the logic of why he went into psychotic breakdowns without the drugs in his system. He had no idea. Part of him didn't even want to know why. He just knew that he couldn't - and _wouldn't_ \- live without it. The glowing blue liquid was a part of him now. Like so many others, he was on a slope from which there was no return.

Gamzee hated himself for that.  
He soon found someone he could hate even more though.

He'd run out of Z and, while he was fine without it for the time being, he needed more for his buyers. But something had happened inside of the city. All of the usual Graverobbers he bought from were nowhere to be found. He didn't enjoy doing deep digging for suppliers, but he didn't have much of a choice. He needed money and loyal saps/customers. Gamzee strayed closer to the city where he knew the bolder robbers would be. Even then, not much to be found.

"I got nothing man. Cleaned out for a while. But there's this guy, cold dude but he's always got some. Fuckin' hassle to make a deal with but you could probably do it. He skulks around the dumping site by the Wallace house," One dealer Gamzee knew (somewhat) informed him. 

That was both good and bad news. A supplier who always had a stock, but was an ass. Not too terribly different, but nevertheless, a challenge. Gamzee didn't think twice about heading straight for that particular burial space. He'd been there many times before, back when he though he could drain bodies himself. He never had much luck. It seemed that bad luck would follow when he reached his destination to find it empty. His heart sank. _God damnit..._ Gamzee thought angrily. He turned on his heel to leave.

"What are you doing?" A man's voice rose from behind a tombstone.

Gamzee turned his head back. How he hadn't noticed before was beyond him, but he could now see blond hair sticking up from behind a grave. It took him a moment to notice the growing glow coming from the area as well. That answered one fleeting question right off the bat. Gamzee approached slowly, forming a better view of the robber at work. He wasn't particularly flashy about his status like others were, he wore a black coat, most everything on him was black except for his red shoes and an insignia of a broken record on the right side of his coat. No, not flashy at all.

"Y'know, that was actually a question that needed answering," The robber turned his head slightly back, revealing a large pair of aviators shielding his eyes, "Not that I'm not just tickled pink by the fact that you're staring, really, I might swoon."

Oh. This must've been what was meant by the statement "A hassle to deal with." Gamzee rolled his shoulders and began to launch into his "I-Really-Need-To-Buy-What-Do-You-Have?" speech.

"Need some more Z to sell. Word is that you're the only guy who's got any right now. What's your price?" Gamzee asked.

The robber packed up his gear before rising to his feet and turning to Gamzee. It seemed like, behind those shades, he was studying him, sizing him up. And Gamzee didn't even notice the very small tug that pulled at the corner of the robber's mouth.

"You're Makara, aren't you?" He replied in a question.

Huh. Odd. "Uh...yeah, I am...How the fuck did you know that?" Gamzee inquired.  
"You've gotta be joking, everyone knows you. You're the psycho dealer!" The robber replied. He circled Gamzee at a slow and easy pace.  
"Oh..."  
"Asking me to be your supplier though...Ballsy. I'll give you that much." The circle was broken as he stepped in front of Gamzee.

The whole thing felt very much like a dance. Quips and insults traded, alarming facts revealed, and the main point was carefully tiptoed around in a wide arc. Derailing, that's what it was, and it really annoyed Gamzee, to a point where he had to steer the conversation back himself.

"Look, it's fucking great that you know all this shit, but I just need some vials for my clients. What do you want for-"

Gamzee was cut off, both by the Graverobber throwing his bag of vials and needles at him, and the shriek of a siren. He was frozen in place holding a whole lot of compromising shit as a large group of goons approached. Overhead, the obnoxious voice screamed "ALL GRAVEROBBERS WILL BE EXECUTED ON SIGHT." Gamzee blinked in surprise when the robber turned his body away, but continued to stare at him.

"Dave Strider. And those are on the house. Good luck!" He stated.

Dave Strider sprinted across the graveyard and was gone from sight in seconds. Gamzee, head still reeling, stumbled his way out and avoided getting shot by the skin of his teeth. And he was pretty damn furious. He had been set up. The fact that he didn't catch on to the stalling was just amazing. Gamzee groaned and slumped against the alley wall he was hiding behind. _Strider..._ The name was now muddled with contempt. There would be no good future in business for those two.


	2. Second and Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's only been a few weeks after the incident where Dave painted Gamzee as a graverobber. Nothing has been easy, and everything is going to get a lot more difficult from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last installment of this particular Repo!Stuck story, but it's definitely not the last one I'll ever write. Writing Repo!Stuck is fun because there's so many characters and so many angles and stories to tell. I can guarantee that I'll make more out of it.

In the weeks that followed, Gamzee's situation became complicated. More complicated than it already was, all things considered. He was pegged as a Graverobber by the goons, and his face was easily recognizable, so there were a lot of places he couldn't safely go anymore. And now that the rumor had spread that he was a robber, no one wanted to sell to him. "If you can get it yourself then get it, we have our own people to take care of." That sentiment was fucking stupid. He didn't have the supplies or the know-how to get it himself, if he did, he wouldn't be asking. People were fucking stupid and it was amazing that any of them were still alive to...

His brain ran at an incredibly fast pace when he was almost on empty. Wasn't like he could help it. But his thoughts always slowly returned to the center of the problem. Dave Strider, the incredible bastard who got him into all this. Who was just _gone._ It was like he never really existed, and no one knew a thing about where he stalked around. Enigma, thy name is Strider, and that wasn't a good thing. Gamzee knew that he couldn't exactly get Dave to go tell the goons that it was a mistake, but he could still get him to spread that around the other robbers. He was going to go crazy trying to find a supply. That was the last thing that he wanted at that moment. No more bad exposure.

 _But he couldn't find the asshole._ Gamzee had searched in every dive he knew, some that he didn't know, but he came up empty every time. The more he searched, the more he found nothing, the more angry he got. Eventually he had to stop, after he almost ripped some innocent bartender's throat out and was chased out of the bar by some unhappy security guards. He sat down in an alley behind some crates and lit a cigarette. His hands were shaking, his vision was starting to as well. Oh this was bad, this was very bad.

"Having problems?"

That voice came from above this time. A fire escape, where Dave stood leaning against the rail with a tell-tale smirk on his face. Gamzee blinked and watched him walk down the steps and right up to him. That cocky stride was annoying. He was annoying. Gamzee was pretty sure that Dave knew that he was annoying and just thought it was funny. Gamzee blew some smoke out of the corner of his mouth and didn't answer.

"We both know that's a yes. You've been looking for me like a mad man - oh, wait..." Dave chuckled.

He knew he'd been looking for him. And was mocking him. Gamzee felt a strike of rage go through him. He got up and shoved Dave against the wall opposite of them, holding his collar tightly. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed.

"You son of a bitch," Gamzee growled.  
"Thanks, you must really like me."

Gamzee cocked his fist and aimed for Dave's face. Dave saw it coming a mile away. He hit Gamzee in his exposed side, shoved him backwards, and retrieved the knife from his pocket. These events all happened very quickly, too quickly for Gamzee to even notice what was happening before he lost his breath and toppled backwards. His back hit a wall and his eyes locked on Dave, who was casually spinning the knife in his hand. He tilted his head to the side.

"Your move, Makara."

It was a challenge Gamzee was happy to accept. He pushed off of the wall and made the obvious move, punching him in the face. When he saw Dave tense and prepare to block that, he swept his leg out instead, hitting him in the side. The follow-through added the punch, to the stomach instead of the face. Dave coughed but recovered and lashed his knife out. It ripped Gamzee's shirt, but didn't cut him. He managed to shrink back so he wouldn't get cut. That was just dirty though, bringing a knife to a fist fight. 

Murderous intent couldn't win him a fight. Gamzee was considerably weaker. A shoulder check into a wall was the thing that finally got him. Well, that and the fact that as soon as his face met the bricks, Dave was twisting his arm into a way that it'd break under any more pressure. Gamzee hissed, but he knew better than to struggle.

"Well, that was fun. You are a lot worse than I thought you'd be, though," Dave commented.  
"She the FUCK up," Gamzee snapped.  
"Oh calm down you big baby. Besides, don't you want this?"

The blue glow appeared in the corner of his eye, tantalizing and drawing. _No, you wanna kill him, you wanna bash his fucking skull into the concrete and make him wish he'd never crossed you, fucking KILL HIM._ His sober mind screamed at him. Gamzee shut his eyes and focused on that voice. Yes, he did want to kill Dave. He gritted his teeth together and avoided staring at the vial of Zydrate that would level him again.

"Fuck it."  
"I don't believe that you mean that."

Something was happening behind him. He knew the sound. A vial loading into a gun. Gamzee's eyes shot open and he tried to thrash and stop him. He only succeeded in twisting his arm more. He started to groan in pain, and then he heard the shock, and the whole world clouded over. All of the pressure was off of him and he collapsed in a heap on the ground. He writhed and slowly stared up at Strider's smug face.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Gamzee asked through the haze.

Dave sneered.

"Because someday, you're gonna owe me. And who knows what you can get pyschos to do for you," Strider replied.

That was bullshit. Gamzee heard plinking sounds and some more vials of Zydrate were tossed on the ground in front of him.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Makara. Be seeing you around."

Strider was gone, Gamzee was a mess, and the only thing that crossed his mind was...

_One day, I'm gonna kill you. Strider...I'm gonna make you wish you never fucked with me._


End file.
